


the language of flowers, the lexicon of stars

by pepperfield



Series: mini f/f fandom ficlet collection [1]
Category: Hana to Hoshi
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 16:08:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3616134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperfield/pseuds/pepperfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So much to say, without saying anything at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the language of flowers, the lexicon of stars

**Author's Note:**

> Please read [Hana to Hoshi](http://bato.to/comic/_/comics/hana-to-hoshi-r4623); this is just a tiny fic to fill my gaping hole of feelings about these dorks.

Hoshino-san speaks in kisses: fluttering touches against Hanai's fingertips and eyelids; tiny nips to the junction of her jawline and neck; a sweet, insistent press against Hanai's mouth, breathing sparks into her heart.  
  
She speaks with her hands, fingers lacing with Hanai's, grounding them to reality. Her pale skin runs warm, leaving lingering whispers of her presence all over Hanai throughout the day. Even when she pulls up the covers at night, Hanai can remember the pattern traced onto her palm by Hoshino's hand from that morning.  
  
Hoshino-san speaks with her eyes, whether across the tennis table, or over their schoolbooks. Her gaze is constant - "like my heart," she says, and Hanai laughs - and unwavering, brimming over with a poorly contained fondness that Hanai has finally learned to recognize. Hoshino looks at Hanai like she's some lost artist's magnum opus, like she's sunshine after rain, as if she alone is in color while the world passes by in a blur of gray.  
  
Hanai knows she isn't anything much, but the reflection she sees of herself in Hoshino's eyes has no equal. She is a girl of unparalleled beauty and charm. She is everything. And it's this, more so than any words could ever express, that tells her she is loved.  
  
But Hanai is no wordsmith either. She doesn't know how to tell Hoshino Shiori that her name has been forever engraved on her heart. She doesn't know how to express that fizzy lightheaded feeling that surfaces when they brush past one another in the hallway. There is no way to explain the happiness that has displaced her frustration when they're volleying back and forth. The words get caught up in her chest, jumbled and stuttered, bumping against Hoshino's own awkward mutterings.  
  
There are no words for the way Hanai reaches for Hoshino, as the evening primrose for the stars. And until the day she finds them, their silent language will be enough.


End file.
